


You Can Be The Boss Daddy, You Can Be The Boss

by PinkToby



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hannigram - Freeform, Kink Exploration, Kink...with a twist!, M/M, hannibal secret santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 16:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3074264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkToby/pseuds/PinkToby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Christmas fic for lostlikeme, featuring daddy kink with a twist!  Hope you like it, and happiest of holidays!  :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Be The Boss Daddy, You Can Be The Boss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lostlikeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostlikeme/gifts).



> Alrighty, after receiving three wonderful prompts by the fabulous lostlikeme, I decided to choose to write daddy kink (a new venture for me!) involving Will and Hannibal. I decided to do something a little different, though, since there are a fair few (wonderful) hannigram daddy kink fics out there... 
> 
> Yes, the title comes from a Lana Del Rey song. I thought it was fitting, for obvious reasons! 
> 
> Anyways, I do hope you like it! 
> 
> Happiest of Holidays!
> 
> <3 Molly (mean-cannibals)

At the end of the day, everything could be blamed on the bourbon.

…Or, at least, that’s what Will Graham tells himself as he unbuttons Hannibal Lecter’s pants for the third time this week.

It’s not _his_ fault that Hannibal has excellent taste in liquor and enough money to buy whatever he wanted. It’s not _his_ fault that ‘whatever he wanted’ was 141-proof and delicious. It isn’t his fault that liquor makes him bold and it most certainly isn’t _his_ fault that Hannibal is already an attractive man who happens to look _even better_ after three drinks.

 _Bastard_ , Will thinks as he kisses along Hannibal’s jaw, _beautiful, sexy bastard._

He’d had a better handle on the situation, he thinks to himself, his fingers feeling thick and fumbling against his own zipper. He had taken extra special care to space his drinks out (unlike the first time) and to avoid flirting too much (unlike the second), but apparently no matter what he does, Will is destined to end up with a handful of Hannibal’s ass by the end of the night.

Not that he’s complaining right now, of course.

Hannibal doesn’t seem to be complaining either, because soon enough, his perfectly tailored trousers are sliding to the floor to rest in an entirely ungraceful lump juxtapose to Will’s newly discarded jeans. Their shirts must be somewhere else in the nebulous void of Hannibal’s bedroom, but seeing as they are not currently collecting wrinkles on Hannibal’s person or Hannibal’s bed, Will isn’t too keen on caring.

The moment Will’s back meets cool cotton duvet, he’s a goner. Damn this plans, damn the hurricane of ‘you’re-going-to-regret-this-tomorrow-morning’ swirling around his brain—this, _this_ is perhaps the best thing that has ever happened in the history of forever, and he intends to tell Hannibal just that.

 _Loudly_.

Perhaps one of the more surprising sex habits belonging to Will Graham—aside from insisting to keep his socks _on_ because his feet happen to get cold quite easily, _thank you very much_ —is his penchant for vocalization. He sighs, he moans, he talks (dirty and otherwise), he whimpers, he has even been known to flat-out _yell_ on occasion when faced with a particularly adept partner (yes, Hannibal is one of them)—but mostly, he babbles.

He is a tornado of pleas, a surging ocean of _ah’s_ and _oh’s_ , a downpour of expletives, all liberally peppered by gasped and groaned _Hannibal’s_ —his throat would probably be edged in a nice rasp come morning, but that hardly matters. All that matters to Will right now is how infuriatingly _wonderful_ it feels to have Hannibal rubbing up against him, even with two pairs of underwear between them. 

“Oh, fuck, I…” Will half-slurs—due to alcohol or pleasure, he can’t really tell—and grinds back up against Hannibal, “Mm, yeah, just like that… _Oh, Daddy!_ ”

Will freezes. Hannibal’s eyes grow sharp, an inkling of something _raw_ blossoming in his flared pupils.  

“Oh…Oh my God, Hannibal,” Will stammers, hands leaving Hannibal’s hips and moving up to cover his own face, “I’m so _sorry—“_

“Don’t,” Hannibal breathes, the muscles in his arms tensing up as he lets out a shuddering sigh, “Please, say it again.”

He resumes rutting against Will’s hips, harder now, much, much harder, almost to the point of pain but still immensely pleasurable. Will wonders if he’s dreaming, if perhaps he needs another brain scan because his hearing has been affected by another bout of encephalitis.

“You…do you _like_ it when I call you that? You…you _like_ being called ‘daddy’ in bed?”

Hannibal buries his face into Will’s neck and groans a soft ‘yes.’ He can feel Hannibal’s cock pulse against his hip.  

It’s certainly unexpected, Will thinks, but he can’t deny the swell in his pride (and his shorts) at the notion of him holding some kind of power over a powerful man.

“So,” Will said with a devilish grin, “you want me to be a good boy for you, hm? Want me to be _your_ good boy?”

“Oh… _oh_ , yes, Will, I—“

With his index finger pressed to Hannibal’s lips, Will shushes him. After lingering for a moment, he traces down the length of Hannibal’s body, from the jut of his chin to the dip of his navel, until his hand reaches the waistband of his underwear.

“Never would’ve guessed it,” Will muses, hand slithering into Hannibal’s briefs and cupping his swollen length “but I suppose it makes sense.”

“How so?” Hannibal asks through gritted teeth. There is a hint of anger in his tone, a spritz of annoyance hanging heavily in his demeanor.

_How delicious._

“Well, for starters,” Will’s fingers wind themselves around Hannibal’s cock and give a gentle squeeze, earning a soft grunt from the man above him, “Also, there is a certain flavor of respect that comes with the title. It denotes dominance, control—both of which you crave in all areas of your life. Including what goes on behind closed doors.”

Lazily, Will drags his hand up the length of Hannibal’s erection and back down again.

“You’re an unconventional man, Hannibal. What others consider taboo, you consider beautiful. Being called ‘daddy’ in an intimate setting appeals to you because society deems it ‘inappropriate.’ Forbidden fruit, as it were.” Will drags his hand back up and twists his wrist ever-so-slightly below the head.

“Indeed,” Hannibal croaks out, “As always, you manage to astound me with your cleverness.”

“Yes, my cleverness. I don’t suppose that’s all you see in me, hm?”

“I see a great— _oh_ —a great many things in you, Will.”

“I imagine so. My wit, my intelligence…” He gives Hannibal a firm squeeze, “my age.”

“I—“

“Let’s face it, Hannibal, you’ve got a good…ten or so years on me. That’s quite the gap, isn’t it? A whole decade between us.”

“Your point being?”

“A lot can happen in ten years, Hannibal, a lot of… _experiences_ to be had.” They’ve built up a rhythm now, a rondo of tug-squeeze-wait-sigh-release that has Hannibal’s breathing is growing more ragged by the second. It won’t be long, now. Will can tell he’s been holding back since his slip of the tongue and the thought of it makes his insides burn with a strange mixture of power and arousal.

“Are you gonna teach _your boy_ what you’ve learned over that ten years; teach me what it takes to _really_ please a man?” Will puts a hand behind Hannibal’s neck and drags his face downwards so they can press their foreheads together. “Come on, show me what it’s like to fuck a _real_ man.”

“Will…” Hannibal’s voice is a warning as much as it is a plea—every muscle in his body seems to be drawn tight and taut against his bones and he thrusts in and out of the warmth of Will’s hand.

“What, you don’t like it when I say things like that?” Oh, this is simply _too good_. “What are you gonna do about it, _daddy_? Are you going to put me over your knee and spank me like the _naughty_ little thing I am?”

“Will, _please_ …”

“You want to control me,” Will says, moving his hand faster still, “yet I’m not the one about to come in his pants like a teenager.”

“ _Oh,_ Will, I’m going to—“

“Go on then,” Will’s lips curl into Cheshire grin, “Give it to me… _Daddy._ ”

The proverbial dam breaks, and Hannibal breaks with it. With a gasp of a hot, guttural groan against Will’s lips, his hips stutter and he begins to spill into Will’s grip. His arms shake as he tries to support himself, and from his lips comes a small sigh as the pleasure wanes.

“Oh…oh my,” Hannibal gasps, barely managing to fall _to the side_ of Will instead of directly onto him, “That was…”

“Unexpected, to say the least,” Will interjects, grabbing a tissue from the bedside table to wipe the mess off his hand “Not that it was bad or anything, just…well, like I said, unexpected.”

“It was unexpected for me as well,” Hannibal remarked, “but as you can tell, I quite enjoyed it. Did you…?”

“Did I…? _Oh,_ uh…” Will looks down at his straining boxers and blushes, “No, but it’s okay, I mean, I don’t _need_ to…”

“Nonsense,” Hannibal replied, sliding down the bed and working his way between his legs, “It’s only fair that, after taking care of me…”

His thumbs hooked underneath the waist of Will’s underwear. Will’s breath hitches.

“…That I get to take care of _my boy._ ”


End file.
